


Seasons Don't Fear

by imma_redshirt



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28139364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imma_redshirt/pseuds/imma_redshirt
Summary: The things the Dads avoid, and all that happens because of it.Chapter One: Henry has nightmares.
Relationships: Henry Oak/Mercedes Oak-Garcia
Kudos: 15





	Seasons Don't Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to write a few vignettes of the Daddies avoiding things, because every single one of them has issues with avoidance. Other characters will be added as they appear.
> 
> Title taken from the Blue Oyster Cult's (Don't Fear) The Reaper.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: panic attacks, nightmares, and Barry Oak being an asshole in a nightmare even though he's never named.

_The static is in his ears. It’s all he can hear. It’s all he can see. Every imperfection in the universe crawling in the air around him, hissing against his lips and crackling along his teeth. He can feel it in his skull and under his skin and all he wants is for it all to stop, but it won’t. It can’t. It surrounds him but it is, somehow, buried somewhere deep in him like a pocket of rot sitting in a hopelessly twisted tree and even when he is not steeped in it, it will be a part of him, and he will never be rid of it._

_He wishes he wasn’t so terrified of it._

_He wishes he can see it differently. He wishes he doesn’t hate it so much. He wishes that somehow he could just get a rein on it, control it enough so that it doesn’t wash over him like a wave and take him under._

_”Do you really think you can control it?”_

_No one ever taught him how._

_“Oh, my son. You are not strong enough. And you never will be.”_

_It consumes him._

“Henry. Henry! You’re okay, just open your eyes--”

For a moment, Henry feared that he _couldn’t_ open his eyes. As if the static weighed his eyelids down, buzzing under his lashes and over his cheeks. Fear pounded in his chest and his breath came in short, rapid gasps that didn’t seem to fill his lungs at all. 

Cool fingers intertwined with his own and a hand cupped his cheek. 

“Henry,” a voice said. “Open your eyes.”

And he did, with a shuddering breath, and stared in panic at a lavender ceiling before turning wide eyes on the person at his side. 

“What?” Henry gasped. “Who, wha--where--”

For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was or who was sitting with him, the dredges of nightmare-fueled fear still clinging to his mind. But quickly enough, he recognized the pastel colors of the bedroom he shared with his wife and Mercedes herself, sitting pressed against his side where he lay in bed. Early morning light filtered in through the window behind her, lining her silhouette like a string of gold, and Henry could see her look of concern as she watched him. 

“Hey,” she said. Her hand on Henry’s cheek guided him to look at her more directly, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Henry breathed. “I’m fine. I just--did I wake you up? Aw, jeez, I’m sorry Mercedes, it was just another one of those gosh darn nightmares--” 

At his words, Mercedes seemed to relax a bit and slid her hand down to rest on his shoulder. Her other hand was still holding his own, though, and she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. She shook her head. “I know. You were talking in your sleep. And before you apologize again,” she said when he opened his mouth to do just that, “You didn’t wake me up. You kidding me? I’ve been up for two hours prepping for the interview today. Came in to get my notes when I heard you.” She paused and rubbed a comforting hand across his shoulder. “It sounded like a bad one.”

Henry shifted about until he was sitting up against the headboard. His pillow had somehow ended up on the floor and the quilt Mercedes’s mother had made for them was tangled around his legs. And though cool air filtered into the bedroom from the open window, he could feel a sheen of sweat on his brow and palms.

“I guess it was,” he said, frowning. 

“Do you remember this one?” Mercedes asked. 

“You know, I’m not sure.” Henry ran a hand through his disheveled hair and looked around the room as if some item would spark his memory. But the only thing that came to mind was static--like the static of a badly tuned radio. 

These nightmares always faded the moment he woke up and he could never remember exactly what happened in them. He thought maybe there was a voice in the nightmares, but not one that he recognized, and of course the awful static. He didn’t know why he was having nightmares about static of all things, but the very concept of static seemed to give him a queasy feeling so it must have been involved somehow.

As the nightmares faded, so did the fear and anxiety that sat restless in his chest. But all too often, a cocktail of shame and humiliation still hung around him like a cloud. It was a terrible way to begin the day and Henry usually took a brisk jog around the block to replace the blue emotions with a healthy dose of adrenaline. 

As if reading his mind, Mercedes patted his arm and said, “If you’re going to go on a run, do you want to try talking about it first? Only if you’re comfortable with it,” she added, “I don’t want to coerce you into sharing more than you’re ready to share.”

“No, no,” Henry said. “I really appreciate being able to talk about these nightmares with you, but you know, I think today I just need to….” He paused and frowned at the wall as a whisper of vaguely familiar words came back to him. 

_You are not strong enough._

“I’m not really up to talking about it,” he finally said. It stung to admit that--one of the greatest strengths of their marriage was the open communication and the ability to express every emotion and every thought. 

Well. Not everything, Henry silently admitted. There were emotions he never felt safe expressing, things he was more comfortable burying under layers of intentional ignorance rather than dealing with them head on. It was better that way.

“Scoot over,” Mercedes said, derailing Henry’s thoughts, which he was grateful for. He wasn’t in the right mindset to follow that train of thought, not when he was still easing away from the turmoil of his nightmare, and especially when those thoughts came too close to bringing memories of the nightmare back to the forefront of his mind.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you if you’re off to work,” Henry said.

Mercedes waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t have to be at the studio for another three hours. Scoot.”

Shifting to the side, he worked on detangling the quilt from his legs as Mercedes reclined on the bed next to him. Together they settled the quilt over themselves. Mercedes draped an arm across Henry’s waist and Henry turned so that he could press his forehead against hers. She hummed and snuggled closer, tourmaline-brown eyes meeting his tired smile.

"I'm going to buy some more amethyst and quartz to put under your pillow," she said, fingers tracing little patterns on the small of Henry's back. "Maybe that'll help some."

"Aw, geez," Henry winced. "You know what? I forgot to put the last ones you bought me under my pillow again last night. I think the boys might've gotten them."

"Mm-hm!" Mercedes poked his chest. "See? They do help! This was the first nightmare you've had in a while, isn't it?"

Henry tried to think about how long it had been since the last one he'd had ( _every one of his imperfections under a microscope and a calm voice ripping him apart like kraft paper with deprecating words and long suffering sighs--_

__

__

_\--rot spreading across a brittle tree--)_

and gave a slow nod. "Yeah, the last one was months ago."

"I don't think I saw you react this badly to that one, though," Mercedes said. After a pause, she added, "You know I’m willing to listen whenever you’re ready." 

At the worry in her words, Henry dropped his gaze and began to babble, “I know, it’s just--gosh, you know, like I said, there’s not much to say. All I can ever remember is…” 

Memories buzzed at the back of his mind. Fear began to blossom in his chest and Henry immediately buried the memories and weighed them down with denial. Someday he would deal with them. But here now, with his wife in his arms and love and comfort swathing them both like a warm blanket--he didn't want to ruin that.

He dragged a hand across his face and sighed. “Just static.”

Mercedes frowned at him. She fiddled with the hem of his oversized t-shirt and said, “Well, if you need a distraction, I could use a second opinion on my introduction today.”

“I’m sure whatever you wrote is wonderful,” Henry said, grateful that Mercedes was dropping the subject. “But sure, I’ll take a look at it. You wanna read it to me while I make breakfast? I was thinking of making avocado and tofu toast and a skillet for the boys--they’re gonna have to have a good breakfast before the tournament today, and you know, I was also thinking of taking a couple of baggies of Grape-Nuts along for the drive, it could be a nice snack all us dads can really bond over, and...”

He tried to ignore the sad smile Mercedes gave him. He tried to ignore everything but the day ahead and the love he had for his beautiful wife and boys and just, you know, life in general. He thought of everything but the nightmares, and the memories, and the fear.

Someday he would find out what the hell was wrong with him. 

He just wished he wasn’t so terrified of that day coming.

**Author's Note:**

> My Dad Fact this chapter: I was today-years-old when I learned that Grape-Nuts is the name of a cereal and not nuts that taste like grapes or something.


End file.
